


expendables

by gortysproject



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: BACKGROUND kepcobi, Kepler is an asshole but what's new, M/M, Mainly Maxwell's POV, Mild scenes of violence, Near-death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 04:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11177496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gortysproject/pseuds/gortysproject
Summary: When an SI5 mission goes wrong, and Jacobi's life hangs in the balance, Maxwell has to confront just how much she's willing to sacrifice to follow orders.Plus, the James Bond feeling, a shirt that's actually, for-real tucked in, the filthiest thing Maxwell never wants to hear, and inedible flowers.





	expendables

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is 50% me wanting to write a genuine piece on maxwell and jacobi's friendship and maxwell's perspective of jacobi and kepler's messed up relationship and 50% me externalising how much i dislike kepler ... have fun yall

“You know,” Jacobi huffs over the comms, “as much as I like seeing _you_ in the formal tuxes, Colonel, I'm really not a fan of actually wearing them.” Maxwell can picture him tugging uncomfortably on his collar as he speaks. She can also picture Kepler immediately reaching to straighten his tie again – probably for the fourth time since they walked into the party. “The James Bond feeling wears off pretty quickly, and then you're just stuck with a tie that's pushed up all the way to the top button and a shirt that's actually, _for-real_ tucked in.”

“I can't imagine what the dress code must've been like for your previous job,” Kepler responds mildly, “but I sure am glad I wasn't around to see it.”

There's another sound of disapproval from Jacobi. “Cufflinks. I'm wearing _cufflinks_.”

“Ooh, the flashy ones that looked like they were worth more than your entire apartment?” Maxwell asks. “Have fun with that. I get to sit in the creepy white van with my flannel shirt and sweatpants. I'm _so_ comfy right now.”

“Shut up. And that shirt makes you look like a lesbian.”

Maxwell grins, leaning back in her chair. It squeaks slightly. She makes a mental note to ask Goddard Futuristics for some updated stakeout equipment, and promptly forgets it. “Are you sure my being a lesbian doesn't have anything to do with it?”

“Nope,” comes Jacobi's voice. “Nothing at all.”

“There's no need to bicker, kids,” Kepler warns, voice low, but amusement lilting the tone in a slight way that both Jacobi and Maxwell have learned to listen out for. “Or I will turn this car around. Maxwell, update?”

The screen flickers as positive feedback begins typing out across it. Maxwell's eyes glance over it for a brief second. “Everything looks fine, sir.”

“Good, good. Keep an eye on it.” Kepler sounds relaxed; then again, Kepler always sounds relaxed. There’s something simultaneously comforting and discomforting about his default jovial tone. “Oh, and, Doctor?” he continues after a moment. “You might want to mute our comms channels for approximately the next thirty seconds, as I'd like to tell Mr Jacobi that – while _he_ doesn't appear to value his formal wear – I would _personally_ appreciate it if he could keep it on for the rest of the evening, at least until we get back to our hotel, so that I can have the pleasure of –”

“ _Ugh_.” Maxwell hits mute on the channel. She barely restrains herself from tugging her earpiece out completely; that sentence either turned into the filthiest thing she never wants to hear, or they stopped talking as soon as she hung up to laugh at her.

She shakes her head, picks up her coffee, and swings round in her chair to face the other screen situated in her cramped van. Taking a long sip of her coffee while her eyes flicker over the readings, Maxwell decides the signal output is as stable as it could be. Kepler would be happy to know that – if he weren’t currently busy seducing Jacobi in the middle of a party.

The plan is simple enough. Kepler and Jacobi go into the party, mingle with guests, and make boring small talk. Maxwell sits in the van a street away with the outside security feed and an audio link to her co-workers – but, unfortunately, no visual on them. There are no cameras inside the building for her to be able to hack into. Jacobi waits for the right time to slip out and then infiltrates the basement beneath the party to download a copy of all the corporate data they’ve predicted is stored there. Maxwell talks him through it because, _apparently_ , taking seven weeks off of work to heal from a minor injury isn’t long enough to put her on active duty, and she needs a pair of hands to do the dirty work for her. Jacobi then returns to the party, he and Kepler leave, and she gets to drive the getaway car.

Maxwell takes another sip of her coffee, and glares at the screen displaying the security feed for not letting her participate actively in the mission. She then glares at her still-bandaged wrist, as it is the actual reason for the suspension.

Guessing that thirty seconds have passed by now, and she _likely_ wouldn’t hear any dirty talk, Maxwell turns the comms channel back on to berate her friends. Before she can get a word in, though, she hears the unmistakable sound of… gunfire.

“ _Maxwell_ ,” Kepler hisses through the comms, and then, “god _damn_ it. Turn your comms back on, you _useless_ –”

“Sir?” she responds immediately, swivelling around in her chair to begin typing to intercept the security camera outside the building Kepler and Jacobi are inside. “What’s happening?”

A grunt. “The entire thing was an ambush,” he replies, voice strained, and Maxwell could swear she heard a bullet whistle past his ear. “They knew we were coming. Jacobi didn’t even get a chance to leave.”

Helpless to do anything but listen without orders to work with, Maxwell roots around the back of the van to find her handgun – just in case. She tucks it into her waistband. Kepler goes silent for a moment, firing two more shots.

“ _Sir, look out_ –”

Jacobi’s words are interrupted by a thud, immediately followed by an unmistakable shout of pain. Maxwell sits upright. “Jacobi?” she asks, staring at the security camera’s feed for the outside of the building as though it’ll tell her what happened. “ _Jacobi_. Come in.”

 

* * *

 

Kepler drags Jacobi behind the best option they have for shelter from the bullets – an overturned table. Maxwell’s voice, ever frantic as neither of them respond, continues to channel directly into his ear, and he studiously ignores it until he has Jacobi safely behind the cover.

“Maxwell,” he grits out, pulling Jacobi up so that his subordinate’s back leans against his chest. Jacobi groans. “Jacobi’s been shot.” His hand presses against the wound. “Twice. One bullet is lodged in his arm, the other…” Kepler manages a wince on Jacobi’s behalf. “I can’t tell for certain, but it appears to have hit somewhere around his sternum.”

“ _His_ – we have to get him out of there.”

Exhaling through his nose, and cradling Jacobi against him as gently as he can while pressing his hand down on the bloody mess in the centre of his chest, Kepler hums his approval. “I couldn’t agree more. You’re armed, Dr Maxwell, and between you and I, seven weeks has been plenty of time for you to recover from that fracture."

“Yes, sir.”

 

* * *

 

 

She’s already out of her seat and tugging the sliding door open. Climbing out of the van, she moves to head for the building’s entrance, tugging the gun out of her waistband. “There’s no back entrance to the building,” she tells Kepler, walking quickly. “I’m gonna have to come in the front.”

“Oh, Doctor,” Kepler replies, sounding far too calm for his situation, “there _is_ a back entrance.” Maxwell hesitates in her strides. Kepler continues. “You should see a basement door on the wall of the building. Not far from where we stopped the van.”

Turning around, looking to the exterior wall of the imposing building, Maxwell spots the door. “I see it,” she says. “But. Uh. _Basement_?”

“It’s taking you exactly where you need to go,” Kepler responds coolly.

“I need to get into the main building,” replies Maxwell, voice slow. Her fingertips tap on the handle of her pistol. “To help you get Jacobi out.”

There’s a pause. Maxwell can still hear the quiet sound of the occasional gunshot from Kepler’s end of the comms. Eventually, Kepler replies, “When did I ever say you needed to come into the main building to save Jacobi?”

“Colonel—”

“He’s bleeding out, Maxwell, and it’s fairly fast. So, you can help me save him… once we’ve completed the mission.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she spits out, vicious, immediately taking another step in the direction of the main building’s entrance. “There’s no way – _no way_ we’re still going ahead with the mission! Sir, he’s going to _die_ –”

This time when Kepler interrupts, his voice is icy. “There’s _no way_ you’d directly disobey the orders you’ve received from your superior officer, _Doctor_.” He sounds tense. Maxwell can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“Jacobi’s going to die,” she says stupidly, disbelievingly. “He needs medical attention _now_.”

“Which should _really_ be a good incentive to finish this mission quickly,” Kepler replies calmly. “I’d hurry up if I were you, Doctor.”

Maxwell feels sick. For a long moment, she’s paralysed with indecision. But Kepler’s right – if Jacobi has a chance of getting out alive, since Kepler won’t let him leave until the job’s done, she only has one option and she has to choose it _now_.

She knows the truth now, though. As her feet carry her to the van to yank the door open and snatch a spare USB drive, she thinks about what she knows. She and Jacobi are assets. Kepler never cared about them beyond their missions.

The realisation is a numbing one. There’s no shock, not really – Kepler was never the type for false affection. She’s always known that much. But she’s been here over a year, now, and he has _cared_ about her; he’s asked after her health and dropped presents on her desk at her birthdays and even, on one memorable occasion seven weeks ago, left a vase of brilliantly bright flowers on her bedside table in the private medical wing while she was asleep. To which Jacobi had immediately pulled one out to see if it were edible. It _wasn’t_ , but the accompanying box of chocolates was.

 _Jacobi_. That’s where Maxwell’s thoughts end up as she crouches down, picking the lock on the external basement door. While she’s never created a false idol out of Colonel Kepler, Jacobi has _worshipped_ him this entire time. Ever-present by Kepler’s side, Jacobi has been – as far as Maxwell has seen – everything a right hand ought to be. Loyal. Trusting. Reverential. He’s hung onto every piece of advice Kepler’s ever given him, watched his back on every mission, thrived on every word of praise from him. And when Kepler decided he wanted more from Jacobi, when it became Jacobi’s job to stay with Kepler both through the day _and_ the night, he tripped over his feet in his haste to take up the chance.

Briefly, Maxwell wonders what it must feel like for him now, to be dying in the arms of the one person he always believed would protect him, only to find out he was as expendable as they get.

The door unlocks, and she grits her teeth in anger.

None of them would be any good at falling in love, but whatever it would involve, Jacobi was on his way there with Kepler. He devoted his life to him – he just jumped in front of a _bullet_ for him. And after all of it, this is how Kepler repays him.

She can still hear the occasional sound of gunfire from over the comms, but now she’s in the building herself, the sounds make her flinch. Fingers twitch to grab her gun.

However, Maxwell already knows the layout of the basement – she’d already memorised it when preparing to instruct Jacobi on getting down there. The instinct to grab her gun at any point turns out to be a useful one when she rounds the corner – two security guards got bullets to the head before they could even process her being there. “Bullseye,” she mutters, and as she keeps walking on past them, the gun stays in her hand.

“Doctor?” Kepler still sounds at ease.

She presses her lips together in annoyance. “I’m in the basement,” she replies obediently, skin crawling. “Just about to reach what _should_ be, if we were right, the room with the consoles in.”

“Good, good,” he murmurs, and she barely picks up on the voice at all. “You’ll be happy to know that everybody in the room has been… neutralised. We’re safe. Just waiting on you, now.”

“ _Safe_ –” _No_. She cuts herself off. Kepler might be completely heartless, but he’s also the only one actually with Jacobi to help him _not die_ right now. “I’m going as fast as I can, sir,” she responds, eventually, voice schooled into neutrality.

Kepler hums. “I’m sure you are.”

Teeth gritted, Maxwell crouches down again to pick the lock to the main room. Her hands are shaking minutely – not that she’d ever acknowledge as much. Unlocking the door, and trying to ignore the slow, rasping breaths coming from Jacobi’s comms, she slips inside and locks the room behind her. “I’m in,” she confirms verbally, tucking her gun away and heading to a console.

Jacobi finds it in himself to huff a laugh. “You – you didn’t even –” Apparently, it’s too much effort to finish the sentence, and his words dissolve into a cough. Maxwell knows he’s probably coughing up blood.

“Didn’t even hack anything yet?” she asks, voice light, playing along. “I know, I’m just that good.” She plugs the USB into the console and opens up the main program, her typing slower than usual from the weeks she’s spent without practising. However, the movements come back fairly easily, like riding a bike, and before long she’s working at the same speed as before.

Collecting the information is easy. Preparing a mass transfer of data is easy. Waiting for all that data to transfer is… _considerably_ harder. “Maxwell?” Kepler prompts, and she realises she hasn’t said anything in a while.

“I’ve just finished preparing the transfer,” she replies. “It – it’s going to take some time, sir.”

“That’s quite alright,” he drawls, and she glares at the computer screen. “I have a side project of sorts for you to work on while you’re waiting.”

She blinks. He continues. “You see, I’d really love to carry Mr Jacobi out of here myself, but the entire building is on lockdown. Has been ever since the gunfire started. There is a _very_ heavy metal door in front of what I’d guess to be the only exit, and the entire security system appears to be centrally controlled.”

Immediately, Maxwell is looking round, eyes darting across the room’s various machinery until her gaze lands on the console on the other side of the room. Eyes running up the cabling, to the centre of the ceiling, she _knows_ that’s the system Kepler’s talking about. “I can disable it,” she says, and her feet are already carrying her over there, leaving the USB to upload the data by itself.

“I’m glad.” Kepler still sounds as annoyingly relaxed as he was before. “I’d prefer to get Jacobi out of here _before_ he dies.”

As Maxwell opens up the program, facing lines and lines of code and beginning to break them down bit by bit, her typing overtakes her concentration. She drowns out Kepler’s voice and Jacobi’s wheezing. She doesn’t even hear Jacobi’s soft, “ _Sir_.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Sir,” Jacobi mutters, voice strained, hand reaching up to circle fingers round Kepler’s wrist. Kepler’s hand is still firmly pressed against the hole in his chest, and he notices, briefly, that Jacobi is far colder to the touch than he was before.

“Don’t waste your breath,” he advises, ignoring the wetness on his skin where Jacobi’s fingers trail. A similar shade of red has been seeping between his fingers for a while, now, as Jacobi has slowly and eventually relaxed into his embrace.

Jacobi looks pale, now, too. At a tilt of his head, Kepler can see past the mess of dark hair, can catch the unblushing, faded colour in Jacobi’s cheek. It strikes him, then, that Jacobi might actually die. Having placed so much faith in him being strong enough to withstand the time it would take for Maxwell to get down to the basement and disable the security system, Kepler’s now... unsure. The grip on his wrist is tight enough, but the way Jacobi’s head lolls back onto his shoulder suggests otherwise.

“Try not to die, Mr Jacobi,” Kepler murmurs, lips barely touching the shell of Jacobi’s ear. “Finding a decent replacement would take up far too much of my time.”

Huffing another weak laugh, Jacobi then closes his eyes. “’Kay,” he whispers. “Didn’t – didn’t know you –”

“This is a direct order,” Kepler cuts in, and Jacobi’s eyes open again. “Stop talking. Just – stop talking.”

After a moment, Jacobi’s head jerks in an attempt at a nod.

 

* * *

 

 

When Maxwell finishes hacking into the security system, she immediately lifts the lockdown. Kepler’s audible response is one of gratitude, and moments later she hears Jacobi groan weakly as Kepler lifts him up to take him outside. “Meet us by the van, Maxwell,” he tells her, voice slightly strained from the exertion required to carry a fully-grown man, and Maxwell hesitates only to grab the finished USB download before running back through the basement to the exit.

She’s sat in Jacobi’s room when he wakes up, feet propped up on the end of the bed, thumbing through some internal magazine about all the cool and exciting things Goddard Futuristics is doing this year. She hears a groan, and looks up, seeing Jacobi blinking hazily at the ceiling.

“Good morning, Sleeping Ugly,” she coos, and Jacobi’s eyes snap to her.

“You always know what to say,” he replies. The tone of casual arrogance his voice went for is hindered by how fragile he sounds. A moment later, he clears his throat, wincing immediately after. “Fuck.”

Ditching the magazine, Maxwell lowers her feet from the bed, spinning round in her chair to face him. “Kepler sent flowers again.”

Jacobi’s gaze moves to the bedside table. “Are they –”

“No, for god’s sake, they’re not edible. Why do you always assume the flowers are made of _chocolate_?”

“I’m not _assuming_ , I’m _hoping_ ,” he shoots back. “It makes them, like, eight times more interesting.” Still, Maxwell watches him struggle to sit up, reaching over and pulling one of the flowers out of the vase to inspect it. He’s trying to hide how pleased he is at the fact that there are flowers at all.

Maxwell wants to tell him, _you’re not special, you’ve never been special to Kepler, stop thinking you matter to him_. She doesn’t. Instead, her irritation is masked under a subtle, yet biting, “It’s the least he could’ve done for trying to kill you.”

“Trying to…” Jacobi looks confused. Maxwell wishes she hadn’t dropped the magazine, because it would be a pretty convenient thing to hide her face in right now. “He didn’t try to kill me,” Jacobi continues, slowly. “He saved me.”

“Okay, first off, _I_ saved you. I want that credit.” The tone is jovial, light-hearted; the conversation itself is anything but. “I don’t know how much you remember –”

“– I remember _everything_.”

“– But you were dying, and he told me to go _finish the mission_ before helping you!”

Jacobi’s looking at her. His hand is still gripping onto the stem of the flower. His expression is weird, and she decides she doesn’t like it. “Maxwell,” he starts, “Kepler made you finish the mission because we couldn’t get out of the building without you disabling the lockdown. The central controls were in the same place as the data Goddard wanted.”

Silence lingers in the air between them for a minute. Maxwell mentally combs through her entire experience of the mission. The van, the comms, the basement door, the data storage - the data storage in the same room as the _security system_.

After a long moment, she realises Jacobi is _right_. It’s a strange feeling. “You mean…”

“For a genius, you’re pretty dumb sometimes.” Jacobi cracks a half-grin, and his face is still too pale, and his movements are too slow, but it hits Maxwell just how much she’d have missed him if he died.

“Huh.”

The half-grin falters, and Jacobi glances away. “If it makes you feel less stupid, I thought I was dead, too. Like _– Mr Jacobi, you are now more of a hindrance than a help, time to leave you behind_.” He laughs, but there’s something off about his voice, something that suggests the idea hits a little too close to home. He _was_ scared.

“Hey,” Maxwell replies, easily, casually, “at least you learned a pretty valuable life lesson.” Jacobi raises an eyebrow doubtfully, and she grins. “Let Colonel Kepler take his own bullets.”

“Is that so?” asks Kepler from the doorway, and both Jacobi and Maxwell flinch – Jacobi’s is accompanied with a pained wince immediately after. Chuckling, Kepler’s eyes move from Jacobi to Maxwell, and he jerks his head slightly  to indicate he wants her to follow him.

Standing up, Maxwell watches Kepler leave before glancing back at Jacobi to shrug. She walks out, closing the door behind her, to see Kepler stopped only a few metres away from the room.  “Sir?”

“Good morning, Dr Maxwell. You were in there all night?”

Maxwell hesitates. “Yeah.”

“And all through yesterday?”

Another hesitation. “Yes, sir.”

“And the night before?”

“ _Yes_.”

Kepler raises his eyebrows, fragmentally. “That’s dedicated.”

“I’m a good friend,” she replies, humour lacing her tone. She tries not to sound nervous.

Kepler hums, looking past her shoulder for a few seconds of silence. Maxwell isn’t sure if there’s anything he’s expecting her to say. As the seconds drag on, she grows anxious, thinking back to try and pick up on anything she might need to tell him before –

“I wanted to thank you, Doctor.” Kepler’s eyes are back on her. His voice sounds strangely… earnest. “I understand that it can’t have been easy on you to follow the orders I gave you, but you did so nonetheless. The mark of a good agent.”

“Oh,” Maxwell replies, unsure of how to respond. “Thanks?”

Something else seems to be plaguing Kepler as well, but he’s always had a good hold on his emotions, and he gives Maxwell a relaxed smile before stepping around her. “You’re dismissed,” Kepler tells her, heading back to the door to Jacobi’s room.

Maxwell watches him step inside, hears the faint, “Mr Jacobi, it’s good to have you back with us,” and the last thing she sees is Jacobi’s face light up before the door closes.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, find me on tumblr @aihera. 
> 
> sidenote, this piece was part of the wolf 359 big bang of 2017!!
> 
> edit: i wanna add the link to the accompanying art because THANK YOU OSCAR   
> http://pfl-washington.tumblr.com/post/161737740845/my-art-for-this-awesome


End file.
